Lullaby
by Isilmee
Summary: What is it like to have a mother who does not recognize you? A peek inside Neville Longbottom's head. COMPLETE


Lullaby

By Isilmee

Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from the Harry Potter series is the property of JK Rowling… but this fic's all mine. ü

Author's Note: Okay, here's another short, angsty story from the girl who wrote _Faded Constellations _(thank you to all the people who reviewed! You really made my day and encouraged me to keep on writing! ü)_. _And this time, the spotlight's on… Neville! (who I think is being seriously neglected by HP fic writers… no offense meant to anyone out there! ü) This takes place in the OOTP timeline, shortly before Harry and the others entered the long-term resident ward at St. Mungo's. Enjoy! Ü

Um, hi, Mom. Gran's gone to get some tea. She said I should sit with you for a while, and, you know, talk… not that you'd be able to understand a word I say… but that's all right, 'cause I don't know _what _to say. Not surprising, really, since I don't know much of anything.

Not like you and Dad. Gran says you were brilliant Aurors. She often wonders why I'm so clumsy and inept. I do, too, sometimes. Maybe it's because you weren't there to teach me things… I'm not _blaming _you, of course, but… I just wish that things could have been different…

Gosh, Dad sure has a loud snore, doesn't he? Sorta like a trumpet. The Healers say he sleeps all the time, but you're always awake. It's probably Dad's snoring that keeps you up.

Aw, jeez, Mum, don't look at me like that… that blank stare… as if you don't know me. You _do _know me, right? I'm Neville, I visit you during the holidays, I'm your son…

It's no use, I guess. You forgot everything when… when the Death Eaters tortured you… you live in a world of your own now, a world of delusions… a world where I don't exist…

But some part of you _must _remember me. A mother can't completely forget her child… well, I guess I shouldn't be thinking like this, 'cause I don't remember you much, either. I was only a year old when… when it happened. I don't remember you before you were like this.

Sometimes, though, when I'm asleep, I hear this voice. It's a really nice voice, and it hums something that sounds like a lullaby. And when I wake up, my pillow is always wet with tears. I wonder… is that _your _voice, Mum? Did you sing me to sleep when I was a baby?

I wish you were able to talk, so I'd know for sure.

I, uh… I read your diary, you know. Gran gave it to me last night. I kept reading over and over again what you wrote when you found out you were expecting…

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm the happiest woman alive! Dr. Pillsworth told me I'm two months pregnant. Frank will be so thrilled! I haven't told anyone except you yet… I'd like to keep it my little secret for a while._

_It's too early to know the baby's sex, but I just know it's going to be a boy. Mum's intuition, I guess. (Mum! Doesn't that sound heavenly?) We'll paint the nursery blue and I'll buy some blue wool to knit his socks and sweaters and caps… and we're going to call him Neville. I've always liked that name._

_Oh, Neville, what will you look like? Maybe you'll have my hair and Frank's eyes… Hopefully, this war will end soon and you can grow up safe and happy… You'll be a Healer, or a national Quidditch player, or maybe even the Minister of Magic! And your father and I will be so proud of you. That's what we're fighting for, for the future of our children, for their chance to live normal lives without worrying about whether they will die tomorrow or today…_

_I haven't met you yet, son, but I love you already._

I grew up just fine, Mum. I don't think I'm going to become any of those things you wanted me to be, but I'm sure I'll be okay. And everyone says I take after you, that we look almost exactly the same…

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I found a picture in the attic the other day… wait… here it is…

See? It's a snapshot of you and me and Dad. Dad's got his arm around you, and you're carrying me, and we're all smiling and waving. You were really pretty, Mum, and Dad was also a good-looking bloke. Of course, I'm biased, since you're my parents and all.

But… this was taken fifteen years ago, and now you and Dad are here at St. Mungo's Hospital, and your face is thin and worn, your eyes are large and glazed, and your hair is white and wispy, and you don't remember me… and I'm sitting next to your bed, completely silent, 'cause I don't know what to say…

Hey, wait, why are you… oh, you want to hold it, I guess… here you go… It really is a nice picture, isn't it, Mum?

Aw, Mum… you're _crying…_

The End

Author's Note: Short, I know, but if I made it longer it would probably have gotten boring. So, tell me what you think! I deliberately aimed for a little sloppiness in narration to make it more realistic, since it's a teenager and not an adult who's talking, but if you found it too weird or too awkward, let me know. I tried my best to keep Neville in character and not make the fic overly sentimental… I hope I succeeded.

Okay, so that's it, then! Comments and constructive criticism would be very much appreciated. Please don't hesitate to point out any errors in grammar, spelling, etcetera. In other words… REVIEW! ü


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